Saturday afternoon at 1:00, I was sitting in my p.j.'s in front of my computer, staring at the 5th grade textbook, wondering how on earth to plan a semester that will take 110 students who are a year behind in English from failing to success. I had spent the morning trying to take a break from the craziness of lesson planning by finishing the book I am Malala, which is a fantastic story that certainly knows how to make a teacher feel the pressure of her job. Overwhelmed but inspired, I told myself I was going to spend the rest of the day creating a semester plan and lesson planning.
Not 20 minutes later, I heard a group of children outside, yelling in Chinese. I assumed it was just some of the students outside playing until I listened a bit closer, and heard "English Teacher! English Teacher! We're from 5(2) class! We're here to play!" 5(2) class is my class. Before I knew it, six 10-year-olds were knocking on my door, and then in my apartment. I looked back at my books, the semester plan that I had barely started, and the stack of diagnostic tests that showed how much work I had to do. It would have been easy to say no, but without even thinking I told my students to give me 2 minutes to change, and before I knew it, we headed out the door.
Our afternoon adventure started at the toy shop across the street, where the 6 of them showed me their favorite dolls, and postcards plastered with the faces of their favorite boy band. (Our conversation about the boy band went like this: Me: "What songs do they sing?" **They list off a few songs** Me: "Which one's your favorite?" (referring to the songs) Cindy: "The one in the middle. He has such beautiful hair. And look at his eyes! He lives in my dreams.")
After a thorough tour of the toy shop, the 7 of us walked toward "Bai Ta," the white tower on top of a small mountain that the TFC fellows all visited during The Real Games. We chatted about everything from their favorite games to American life, and I tried to answer their endless stream of questions about the USA. A few favorite topics were my family, American food, and Christmas. ("So you really put a tree inside your house? And then decorate it? And then put presents under it? THAT'S SO COOL! Wait....why?") When we got to Bai Ta, I assumed that we were just going to take a walk around the lake, and perhaps climb up the 200 or so stairs to the top, but luckily, my 5th graders had a day of childish fun planned.
We first headed to a temple, where they each respectfully bowed 3 times in front of each statue, happy to show me the proper form. Then, they giggled their way through a garden, shrieking each time they saw a caterpillar and delighting in the beautiful flowers that were blooming all around. David, the only boy in the group and a self-declared "tiapoi (naughty) boy," dutifully picked 6 beautiful bunches of flowers, handing one to me, and then to each of the girls. The girls pinned the flowers into my hair while David climbed a tree, trying to act "cool" despite his gentlemanly tendencies.
Not 20 minutes later, I heard a group of children outside, yelling in Chinese. I assumed it was just some of the students outside playing until I listened a bit closer, and heard "English Teacher! English Teacher! We're from 5(2) class! We're here to play!" 5(2) class is my class. Before I knew it, six 10-year-olds were knocking on my door, and then in my apartment. I looked back at my books, the semester plan that I had barely started, and the stack of diagnostic tests that showed how much work I had to do. It would have been easy to say no, but without even thinking I told my students to give me 2 minutes to change, and before I knew it, we headed out the door.
Our afternoon adventure started at the toy shop across the street, where the 6 of them showed me their favorite dolls, and postcards plastered with the faces of their favorite boy band. (Our conversation about the boy band went like this: Me: "What songs do they sing?" **They list off a few songs** Me: "Which one's your favorite?" (referring to the songs) Cindy: "The one in the middle. He has such beautiful hair. And look at his eyes! He lives in my dreams.")
After a thorough tour of the toy shop, the 7 of us walked toward "Bai Ta," the white tower on top of a small mountain that the TFC fellows all visited during The Real Games. We chatted about everything from their favorite games to American life, and I tried to answer their endless stream of questions about the USA. A few favorite topics were my family, American food, and Christmas. ("So you really put a tree inside your house? And then decorate it? And then put presents under it? THAT'S SO COOL! Wait....why?") When we got to Bai Ta, I assumed that we were just going to take a walk around the lake, and perhaps climb up the 200 or so stairs to the top, but luckily, my 5th graders had a day of childish fun planned.
We first headed to a temple, where they each respectfully bowed 3 times in front of each statue, happy to show me the proper form. Then, they giggled their way through a garden, shrieking each time they saw a caterpillar and delighting in the beautiful flowers that were blooming all around. David, the only boy in the group and a self-declared "tiapoi (naughty) boy," dutifully picked 6 beautiful bunches of flowers, handing one to me, and then to each of the girls. The girls pinned the flowers into my hair while David climbed a tree, trying to act "cool" despite his gentlemanly tendencies.
The path wound around through the forest, and suddenly the girls started running toward a little stand up ahead. They each bought a silver tube, eagerly ripped them open, and stuck a little straw into the bright, colorful goop that was oozing out. It turns out the goop was some sort of plastic that can be blown into large bubbles that keep their form. My students tried and tried to teach me how to blow a bubble, but after failing a few times, they decided that they should just blow the bubbles and give them to me instead.
We kept walking with our bubbles, and once again a few girls ran ahead to buy something. They came back with cracker-like sticks, and told me that they were "for the monkeys." We then walked past a plant of some sort, and the students began picking leaves, once again saying they were "for the monkeys." Completely confused, I continued to follow my students, and was surprised to see a miniature zoo at the top of the next staircase. Sure enough, a cage full of monkeys stood before us, and a girl named Sally handed me one of the crackers, and excitedly told me to hand it to a monkey. I looked toward the cage and saw little hands reaching out from between the metal bars, grabbing the crackers and leaves and happily eating their treats. We laughed as the monkeys climbed on top of one another to get the food, hung from the bars, and even did cartwheels across the ground.
After spending some time with the monkeys, we headed back down the mountain and into town. As had become the pattern of the day, a few girls ran ahead, telling me they had a secret, so I should walk slowly. They then came sprinting back with a chicken-burger from a mini KFC wanna-be restaurant, the only place in town that sells any food that can pass as "Western." A girl named Lisa proudly declared, "Miss Cassie, we think you must miss America. We heard that Americans like to eat hamburgers, so we pooled our money together to buy you one. We really hope this makes you feel like Dayao can be home too." Of all the wonderful things that people in Dayao have done to make us feel welcome, the thoughtfulness of these 10-year-olds certainly topped the list, and I fought back a tear as I split the burger to share with them.
The 4 hours I was able to spend with these students before I had to head to dinner with a few local teachers were the fastest 4 hours I've experienced since coming to China. The afternoon was full of carefree fun that made me feel like I was 10-years-old again. At one point, the fun turned solemn as one girl asked about the diagnostic test they had taken last week, near tears as she told me she didn't understand a single question. The other students stared at me, clearly feeling the same way, a look of fright on each of their faces. I thought back to the textbook sitting on my desk, waiting for me to plan the week's lessons. Trying to believe it myself, I explained to the 6 students in front of me that I am here because I can help them to understand and do well in English class. I told them how excited I was to be here teaching, and that I truly believe that each of them will be able to succeed. Then, Laura, a quiet girl who had barely spoken the whole day, whispered to her friends "She has cared enough to come with us today. She cares enough to help us. I believe we will do well with Miss Cassie as our teacher. If we study hard and care about English class, we can succeed." I was absolutely shocked by the amount of trust that this little girl had placed in me after 2 classes and a few hours of fun. It will take a lot of work to keep up with my students' expectations of my teaching abilities, but hearing the confidence they have in me, and their own belief that they can succeed despite the odds, reminded me of how important, exciting, and inspiring this job truly is.
There will always be work to do, lesson plans to write, and tests to grade, but, as it turns out, sometimes the biggest impact isn't made in the classroom.